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I heard clanking and rattling sounds in my sleep and had to peer my eyes open. Raihaan forcefully began living at my place and I felt like I was continuously treading on needles and thorns. A strong scent of 'Oud with light smokes wafted into my room and I grew confused.
I threw my duvet off and unlocked my door to find him carrying an Arabian Incense holder in his hands and roam around the entire house that was squeaky clean. The hall brightened with the sunlight that floated in from all the windows, making it look eternally refreshing.
He was garbed in a white Pathani suit, with his damp hair messily combed by his hands adding to his handsome looks. His sleeved were rolled till his elbows and he moved in all the directions wafting the scent.
On the kitchen counter sat neatly wrapped bowls of Chicken Mughlai and Zeera rice, and a fresh plate of geometrically cut salad. I scratched my head at the inviting atmosphere and turned to him in perplexity.
He whirled around while doing his business of filling the house with this reviving aroma and morphed an expression of pleasant surprise when his eyes fell on my dishelved morning form. "Assalam alaikum. You're awake?"
My heart beat furiously when he neared me with a revitalizing grin. He placed his free arm on the side of my head and kissed my temple lovingly. "Go, get ready. It's Friday. Are you coming to the Masjid for prayer?"
I blinked my eyes. Masjid? He goes to pray? "You're going to the Masjid?" I couldn't help but blurt out and he gave me a clipped smile.
"Yes, I am. You have around – he checked his watch – thirty minutes until the Azaan. So, are you coming?" He asked me earnestly. He settled the incense holder on the center table and turned to me for affirmation.
"No, I'll pray at home." I gave him my short reply. He smiled at me in understanding and rushed to his room to get his car keys.
"Okay. I'll go and come. You take a bath and have your breakfast. I'll be back in an hour, In Shaa Allah." He warmly spoke, kissing my head once again as he prepared to leave.
He appeared so peaceful and bracing since he came back and I felt curious of what change he went through in this one year. There was no sign of rancour or bitterness. Neither in his voice, nor in his eyes nor in his actions. He made me feel guilty even though I wasn't supposed to be. What happened was the last thought my mind dribbled with until I took a bath and prayed in front of my Lord.
"Assalam alaikum! Janan?" He noiselessly shut the door after returning and immediately called for me. It gave me a sense of completion unwillingly but I chucked it off for the moment.
"Did you have food?" He questioned with concern and a gleaming face, a sign of a believer, and inspected the bowls he'd prepared. I don't know why I couldn't reach out and taste his handmade food. Was I overwhelmed with his care?
